Similarities
by miffstery
Summary: Have you ever been so scared that you’ve felt frozen, like time has stopped? There’s a reason why people talk about a moment out of time and Sam and Dean are about to discover why when they look into sightings of a ghost on a bus.
1. Chapter 1

Usual Disclaimer: I do not own or have any affiliation with anyone or anything connected to Supernatural or its characters and actors. This is FanFic and strictly for recreational use only. I reserve the right to the character Tate though.

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic and would appreciate any feedback, thanks :)

Summary: Have you ever been so scared that you've felt frozen, like time has stopped?

There's a reason why people talk about a moment out of time and Sam and Dean are about to discover why when they look into sightings of a ghost on a bus.

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1. Similarities 

'Mom?' Tate waited for a second and then getting no response she did what any self respecting daughter would do, she rattled the newspaper called out a little louder than before, "Mum...MUM!"

"Yes dear?"

She watched her mother glide into the room, really it was the only way to describe how her mum moved, close to silent, sometimes Tate even thought that her mom was so quiet because she wasn't all there to begin with, not in the crazy sense of not all there, just not complete, she was kind of lighter than she should be. It was like having a conversation with someone who was only half listening, like someone watching TV while you lived your life around them. Tate had had a boyfriend once who played RPG's online, it had taken a while before she realised that what annoyed her most about him was that he was too much like her mum, every time they talked some part of his brain was off working out ways to get past the next super-strengthed troll or something similar. They'd broken up very soon after.

"Yes dear?" unlike her daughter her mum never raised her voice.

"Did you see the paper today? Did you see this article? Does it look familiar to you at all?" she rattled the paper so hard that it was doubtful her mother would be able to read the major headline let alone see the small photo at the bottom of the page.

"Yes dear, I saw. You look lovely."

"The problem is mum, that this is not me, it looks a lot like me," exactly like her actually: straight black hair falling just to her shoulders, dark lashes framing pale grey eyes that looked a little sadder than they should be, a straight nose that's just a little too long, a full bottom lip and a stature barely approaching average height from the short end of the scale. "Well a lot like me, but I don't ride the bus and I'm pretty sure I'm never partially see-through..."

"Yes dear."

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"Dude, even I know that you can take one photo, make it see through, put it over the top of another one and, hey presto, ghost on a bus. If you stopped Googling porn for five seconds you'd know about things like Photoshop Sammy," Dean looked over at Sam and then back at the road with a small smile flirting around the corners of his mouth.

"It was research Dean, that site..."

"'Hot Grannies on Bikes' Sammy, does Jo know you're this kinky, because I had no idea..."

"Research. It was research," Sam interrupted Dean before he could get into full swing, he decided to ignore the snort, snigger and eyebrow wiggling his older brother was indulging in, "Anyway the guy who owns the site was sure he had a poltergeist, who knew it would just be rats."

"Rats, ugh I hate those sons of b..." Dean shuddered and then tapped the bundle of papers Sam was holding, "So what's the deal with this one again?"

"This photo was taken from the security camera footage from a bus, but the bus driver swears the bus was empty. The thing is that after they published the story a lot more people came forward and said they'd seen her before, but..."

"There's always a but." Dean shook his head; they were off to Back-of-the-buttsville again chasing ghosts, it not that he didn't appreciate Sam's fervour after losing so many loved one's, and being strangled by more than one ghost or ghoulie, but hey, every now and then it would be good to chase something new, or even not chase something other than the next pretty thing that crossed his path, or even maybe chase something in Florida or even something south of Kansas once in a while.

Noticing Sam was staring at him and realising he'd probably just been asked a question Dean went for the obvious response, "Heh, you said butt." Sam gave him that ol' predictable 'stop being an ass' frown and repeated himself.

"All these people, over 50 of them, have seen her at one time or another over the past 24 years, but most of them disregarded it, the bus route only runs when there's a big game on and it only picks up and drops off students who work at the college union pub after hours." Sam was referring to notes now and Dean considered giving him the obligatory snicker of derision but decided not to.

"So basically we're talking about drunk or so-tired-my-eyes-are-going-to-fall-out-of-my-head college students." Once again his eyebrows rose above the rim of his sunglasses.

"Yes Dean, but hey why does everything to do with college that's not related to cheerleaders require you to use that tone?" Sam looked at dean accusingly.

Dean looked back, clearly his little brother was spoiling for a fight, had been ever since he'd made that crack about Jo having bigger muscles than Sam. Sometimes little brothers and big brothers just never really grew up.

"Mostly Sam it's because I clearly have no clue about what really goes on at a higher learning institution other than what I've seen on TV, it seems I was a little busy chasing things that wanted to kill me before I could kill them, but I thought we'd been over this, is it something that we're supposed to do every couple of months? Bring up the fact that I dragged you away from school and your friends and now you have to hang around with me, your uneducated chump of a brother who's saved your life more times than he has fingers and toes to count with". Is what Dean would have said, but he didn't need to. There'd been plenty enough angst ridden mini-montages of that argument to last a lifetime. Instead he said:

"Cheerleaders Sam, that's all I should need to say. Anyhoo it's about time we visited Indiana again, lets go check out this ghost on a bus... hey, it doesn't need to stay above fifty for her to be seen does it? Because she's a bit of Sandy Bullock hottie." He was rewarded by Sam's quick grin, and answered it with one of his own.

"Did you seriously just say 'anyhoo' back there?" Sam asked a minute later as they sped along the highway.

"Shut your pie hole Sammy."

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Supernatural; unfortunately.

2. Cold

Dean hunkered down in the Impala, his coffee was cold, his burger was cold, and damn it, his_ butt_ was cold. This was why he should volunteer to do the research rather than the reconnaissance once in while, he thought absently as he gnawed on the lid on the Styrofoam cup that hadn't managed to keep his coffee warm. He tried not to think dark thoughts about Sam, central heating and cute librarians, and mostly succeeded. What was making this stakeout, if you could call watching a bus stop a stakeout, even worse was the fact that his stereo had died, taking with it his favourite Zeppelin tape. And he was bored and it was cold, and it was starting to annoy him that he couldn't place where he'd seen the face of the ghost before.

His eyes scanned the bus stop again, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

The stop nestled into the grass of the street verge, once upon a time it might have been painted a cheery bright yellow, but now it was a non-descript beige where it could be seen through the posters advertising band gigs and missing persons. The seat was mostly intact and could be green, maybe. One good thing about being in the car and not in the bus stop itself is that Dean didn't have to smell it anymore. Conveniently situated a step and a stumble away from the back entrance to the student union bar, it was also a convenient stop for guys with full bladders after a night full of beer.

Dean suddenly sat up straighter as a group of students tumbled out of the doorway, cataloguing the group he noted a couple of guys who had the look of jocks about them and three very pretty girls, most likely cheerleaders… "What the f…" Dean fumbled for his gun as the passenger door suddenly opened. Sam sniggered at him and climbed in. "Don't do that Sammy I could have blown your head off." Dean grumbled.

"I don't really think I was in any danger from your Twinkie Dean," Sam raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at the original style Twinkie in Dean's hand. "Unless it's a cursed Twinkie, or maybe you have a slow death planned for me, you know feed me sugar now and I'll die in about forty years from sugar toxicosis."

"You made that up there's no such thing. Dude you better have had a more successful night than I have." Dean looked at the Twinkie, shrugged and then unwrapped it, eating it in one mouthful he waved vaguely at the bus stop, "Those fine upstanding students you see urinating are the fifth set of people to come out here and use public property as a toilet." He knew he sounded officious, but hell he was cold, pretty sure his ass was numb and he'd tried to shoot his brother with a Twinkie. All in all the night so far had sucked. "I'm going to go get a beer."

"You don't want to know what I found out first?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Look Sam, if it had been something important you would have told me already, let me guess, there's been vague sightings, people think maybe it's a homeless person, or some kind of prank, or even just reflections from advertising on the side of the bus. Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure it won't mind if I have a beer." Dean wheedled, and then threw up his hands when Sam stayed sitting in the car, "Come have a beer with me Sam, maybe there's a few more cheerleaders looking for some ruggedly mysterious men, or in your case a rugged geeky guy."

"I'm so not geeky." Sam mumbled as he unfolded his lanky frame from the Impala. "And you know Dean _some_ women appreciate a guy with a brain."

"Right Sammy, you let yourself believe that and I'll buy you a beer, come on dude it's freezing out here." Dean shivered to emphasise his point. "Why is it so freakin' cold?"

"Because it's two weeks til Christmas and we're about 30 minutes from the Canadian border." Sam gave him a look that said _'Wake up dude'_.

"Christmas huh?" Dean said absently as he locked the car, how did it come to be Christmas already? It seemed like July was only a couple of weeks ago. Time sure did fly when you spent ten hours a day driving from one small town to the next. Christmas since their Mom had died had been basically a non-event, Dean remembered Sam coming home from grade school one day, all excited about being cast in the school Christmas pageant, as a tree.

It was probably the longest they'd ever stayed in one place since their dad had started hunting; John had left them with an old retired hunter, a woman by the name of Luann and had been gone for two months. Dean had, of course, spent most of his time outside the principal's office at the local middle school, but Sam being Sam had quickly made friends and as usual showed his teacher that he was bright as the proverbial button.

Sam had shown Dean the cast list and the invitation that was sent to all the parents a few weeks later, asking that the parents sew their children's costume. 'Do you think Dad will be back on Christmas Eve in time for the play Dean?' Sam had asked wistfully. So Dean had done his best, phoned Dad's contacts from the payphone down the road, and when he couldn't reach John he'd gone to the local craft and hardware stores and made Sam the best tree costume ever. The bark was rippled in all the right places, the crepe paper foliage shook and shivered; when Sam walked on stage he was going to be the best tree in Bethlehem ever.

Dean had skipped school and gone into the woods to chop down a fir tree with one of the multitude of axes from Luann's closet. The damn thing had twinkled with fairy lights and tinsel, and under the tree was a stack of presents, some for Sam and some for Dean ready to open when they got back from the pageant. He'd thought he'd done a great job until later that night as he and Sam had been dozing on the couch having fallen asleep in the middle of 'The Muppet Christmas Carol'. Their dad had slammed into the house, thrown his bag down and then started yelling at Dean for calling his contacts looking for him. He'd then taken one look at the Christmas tree, gone silent and packed them all into the Impala, leaving behind the tree the presents and Sam's costume. Not that he'd needed it. Christmas had been spent in yet another hotel room, eating spaghetti-O's from the can cold.

Biting down on his anger towards their father Dean turned and walked into the street to follow Sam towards the bar. And then he saw her, the ghost, looking more real than a ghost had any right to be as she walked towards the bus stop and straight in front of the 79 bus as it rolled down the street. He turned to give Sam a head's up and then only had time to register Sam yelling his name before all he felt was pain, and then pain slid into darkness.

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Tate watched in growing horror as a second man ran towards the one currently slumped a couple a feet behind the bus that had just hit him. "Dean!" the guy cried and dropped to his knees next to the unconscious victim. She checked for traffic and then ran out onto the road, pulling her cell phone out of her bag as she went. Stopping beside the two men she dialled nine, one, one and gave the dispatcher a short description of what had happened and where they were.

"He just ran in front of the bus… I couldn't stop in time… is he dead?" The bus driver wheezed over the top of an impressive paunch. The twenty feet to where the guy he'd just hit with a bus was the furthest he'd run in years. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Tate looked down at the guy kneeling on the road and noticed he'd relaxed a little. "Will he be okay?" She echoed the bus driver's question. Oh god he's gorgeous, was the random thought that went through he brain when the guy looked up, his eyes said it all. He was worried, that was clear, but there was a distinct lack of anything resembling distraught.

"He has a pulse, a strong one; I think he only got a little sideswiped." Tate looked at him a little incredulously, how exactly did one get a little sideswiped? "It looks like he copped one on the shoulder and maybe cheekbone. Thanks for calling the ambulance …miss" He looked up at Tate and she worked out he was waiting for a name.

"I've got to go call this in." The bus driver said suddenly and waddled back to his bus.

"My name is Tate, and it's no problem, I feel kind of responsible actually, the bus had to swerve to miss me…" Tate started to shiver as she realised how close she'd come to being the one slumped on the ground. "I… think I need to sit down." She felt the guy steady her as she sat down suddenly.

"Careful there Tate," he smiled at her, and then she noticed that his other hand had never left his…friend, roommate, partner? "I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean, usually he has more to say for himself."

"Shut up Sammy."

Tate and Sam looked down at Dean, his face was covered in blood and he was definitely going to have a scar from the cut above his right eyebrow, it would match the one on the left Tate thought, just a little bit hysterically. She wasn't handling this well.

"Don't move!" Sam tried to tell Dean, but he'd already rolled over, the asphalt had been starting to, literally, get up his nose. He felt like hell. Assessing himself Dean decided he'd live so he opened his eyes. "Dude, are you holding my hand?" he asked Sam, mostly to let his little brother know he was fine, that everything would be okay. And then he saw her, framed by the bright white light of a streetlamp, and it finally dawned on him where he knew her from. "No way, not again. I'm not dead and I don't plan on dying today, tomorrow or even the next day."

"Dean!" Sam was shocked at how rude Dean was being, even more rude than normal, but more concerning was the fact that he wasn't making sense, maybe he had a concussion. He looked an apology at Tate.

"Don't worry Sam, he's hurt…"

"I'm not so hurt that I don't know what you're up to Sneaky!" Dean sat up quickly and clearly his body wasn't prepared to do whatever it was he had in mind because he swore and sagged back into unconsciousness, and was saved from hitting his head by Sam.

"Really he's not usually that rude; I think he's confused you with someone else…" Sam looked apologetically across at the young woman, she was such a tiny thing, with straight dark hair and… It finally dawned on Sam where he'd seen her before. She was the ghost, or at least looked a lot like her. She was pale enough, especially just before she threw up all over him.

Tate had just launched into an apology when the ambulance arrived and Dean was carefully braced and then loaded into the van, the paramedic noted that it was probably a good thing he'd passed out again, because a dislocated shoulder could be very painful. She saw Sam talking quietly to the other paramedic and the stocky older woman walked over and led Tate towards the ambulance.

"What? I don't need the hospital…"

"You're in shock, and your cute boyfriend over there wants to be sure you're okay."

"He's not my boyfriend…" Despite her further protests Tate found herself riding next to Dean on the way to the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

Usual disclaimer: I don't own or have any affiliation with Supernatural, its characters, the actors or anything associated with the show :(

A/N - I'd appreciate a little imput if you have any - reviews are always read and treasured (and acted on as well), but on to the story:

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**3. Restraint**

Geez his head hurt; actually basically everything hurt, Dean thought with a groan. Carefully he wiggled everything starting at his toes and working his way upward and outward to his fingers. Everything seemed to be in working, if painful, order. But something just wasn't quite right. Generally Dean considered himself to be fairly level headed, not too prone to panic, particularly if Sammy wasn't involved. But…

He was tied up and it felt like he was naked.

Wherever he was it was too dark to see what kind of restraints he was in so he tested the strength of whatever held his wrists but all he got for his trouble was blinding pain in his right arm and shoulder.

"Nnng!" sometimes things just hurt so much that even incredibly satisfying swear words couldn't come out. And to cap it all off there was this insistent little buzz in his ear that just wouldn't go away. And he really wished it would go away, because his head hurt. This was one of those times in your life when you wish you could get away with crying for your momma. Dean let out a short puff of air and carefully tried moving his legs "Ow! Aw crap." They seemed to be pinned down as well, damn it all.

That was it, enough already; he wasn't going to go down with out a fight, no matter how much it hurt. He let a small pained chuckle escape as he imagined that his efforts would be accompanied by the ever cheesy yet appropriate 'Eye of the Tiger' "Duh, dun, dun dun.."

"Dean!"

"Sammy?" well that was good, Dean's little niggling worry that was always there when he couldn't see, hear or feel Sam was eased by the sound of his little brother's voice. "Sammy I'm tied up here."

"Dean, stop trying to get up." Dean could now hear and feel Sam, but he still couldn't see him, annoyingly his newly acquired internal personal stereo started playing Meatloaf's 'Two out of three ain't bad'. He thrashed a little, not enough to disturb the comforting hand on his arm but enough to make Sam say "Dean, dude, stop moving around or you'll do yourself some more damage." Dean didn't stop moving just because Sam had told him to; he stopped moving because of the worry in his voice.

"Mr Hastings? Please excuse me; I just need to check your brother's equipment." There was a blinding light and Dean shut his eyes as pain lanced through his head. He kept his eyes closed to fight off the wave of nausea that went with the new level of headache.

"Sure." There was the sound of soft shoes on linoleum and then the annoying buzz stopped, thanks be for small mercies Dean thought. And decided it was worth cracking open an eyelid to see who belonged to the feminine voice. His vision was too blurry to see anything

"Your brother's okay, I think the alarms went off because of the change in his vitals when he woke up, I'll just check his pulse…"

"No pulse checking until someone tells me what the freaking hell is going on!" He was a little annoyed now. And it annoyed him even more that all he could do was wiggle his fingers threateningly.

"Stop pouting Dean, I'll tell you why in a minute, all done Sherry?" Sam asked the nurse as she left Dean's equipment.

"Done, you're fine Dean. I've given him his night meds as well," Sherry said to Sam as she gave Dean's arm a little pat. He resisted the impulse to snap at the comfortable looking woman with his teeth. Weird; he usually wasn't this wired when he woke up. What the hell was going on and now that he could see a little more, Dean wanted to know why he was strapped onto a hospital bed in physical restraints. He waited until Sherry had finished writing stuff in what had to be his chart before turning on his brother.

"What the hell Sam?"

"Hey Dean," Sam said quietly "How do you feel man?"

"Like I was hit by a bus." Dean answered grumpily, and opened his eyes a millimetre further, just because it felt like his head was going to explode and that his shoulder was on fire didn't mean he couldn't give Sam his patented 'I'm pissed' scowl. He tugged on the restraints with his left arm. "Why am I tied to this bed, and why am I naked?" at least he had a blanket on.

"They had to cut your shirt off to check your shoulder, which was dislocated by the way, and then took the rest off to check the rest of you for damage, and you aren't naked you have a hospital gown on" Sam ran a quick hand through his shaggy hair, "I had to do some fast talking to the doctor when she came out from behind the emergency curtain, I think she suspects that maybe you were abused as a kid."

"What with all the scars I suppose." Dean shrugged and then swore as the fire returned to his shoulder. "What did you tell her dude? That I'm some kind of stuntman, or fireman?" He liked the idea of stuntman.

"She could tell that some of your scars are from when you were a kid Dean, I just said you were really accident prone and left it at that." Sam explained with a quick grin at Dean's obvious disappointment. The grumpiness usually indicated his brother was going to be okay, he was surprised by the amount of tension that left his tall frame, but then again Dean didn't hold the patent on needing to protect his family and fear of losing any more of it.

"Enough trying to distract me, and more undoing of restraints action little brother, or was it you that tied me up in the first place?" Dean looked at Sam accusingly again, he hadn't missed the tension leaving Sam before, but if anything it made him all the more anxious to find out exactly why he was in a hospital bed. The last thing he remembered was driving through Rochester and picking up some Twinkies and soda. "So what happened?"

"You were hit by a bus." Sam said matter-of-factly, "The restraints were to stop you hurting yourself any more by rolling out of bed, it was like you were doing a samba in there."

"Don't be an ass Sam, what really happened?" Dean was starting to get grumpy again; it was his job to be flippant one not his earnest little brother.

"Seriously dude you were hit by a bus, walked right out in front of it. You scared the shit outta me man."

"No freakin' way." Dean started to think back, and couldn't for the life of him remember anything past the cute girl who'd sold him the Twinkies. "I don't remember anything."

"It's okay Dean, at least we found some answers; at least _I_ did while you were sleeping on the job." As he undid the restraints Sam couldn't help thinking that hadn't seen Dean so forlorn since their dad had died. In the hospital bed he seemed to somehow take up less room than he usually did. Sam wasn't sure if this new awake and confused Dean was any better to the alternately statue still or writhing unconscious Dean.

"You found the… woman off the bus?" Dean asked, omitting the word ghost just in case.

"She wasn't on the bus but I found the _woman._" Sam said quietly. Dean frowned at him as he rubbed his now free wrists, wincing as his shoulder grumbled. He felt tired, it hurt to think and he felt like lying back and snuggling into the less than soft hospital bed. Sam clearly noticed, "I'll explain tomorrow, you need to rest some more."

"I don't need to sleep," Dean's protest was undermined by a huge yawn, "okay maybe I do, but tomorrow, you bring whoever it is out in the hall to see me." Dean mumbled sleepily as he settled himself more comfortably. The subtle scent of vanilla had been getting to Dean for the last few minutes. It was damn sexy.

"What?" Sam looked taken aback, and then he shrugged, Dean's finely honed senses wouldn't have missed something even as small as the scent of Tate's shampoo or her quiet shuffling as she waited in the hall. Dean's gentle snores told him his brother had fallen asleep, so Sam stood and pulled up his blankets.

Out in the hallway Tate saw the tender way Sam brushed the short hair back from his brother's forehead before turning slowly and leaving the room with one last glance back as if assuring himself that Dean was still there.

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Please R & R!

Please?

Please….?

I know I haven't got into the romance bit as yet, but I'll get there, I promise, particularly if I get some reviews that say you actually want me to get there 


	4. Chapter 4

4. Warm chocolate

Unbelievable, Tate thought to herself, she'd jumped into the car of an almost perfect stranger without so much as a 'gee you aren't a psychopath or anything are you?' If her mother found out she'd never hear the end of it. It was her mother's one mantra: _'All men are dangerous, especially the one's who don't look it.'_ Well to be honest Sam didn't look all that dangerous, until you looked into his eyes and saw the steely clear gaze behind the shy smile and aww shucks gentlemanly humility. His sheer size alone should be frightening, but somehow it wasn't. Not like his brother.

Tate had had plenty of time to get a good look at Dean as the ambulance made it's way to the hospital. The paramedic had gradually stripped him to get a better look at his more obvious injuries. First they'd cut off what looked like a battered and well-loved leather jacket and then a soft looking cotton sweater and t-shirt, both black, revealing a smooth chest with skin that looked like pale gold satin stretched tightly over lean muscle, and that chest wasn't even the best bit. It was a body hundreds of men would kill themselves in a gym to get, and one that millions of women would kill just to get a hold of for a few hours.

"Um, which way now?"

Tate jumped a little then pointed and said to the right, surprised that she'd let her thoughts get so away from her, and was even more surprised at the direction of her thoughts. She spent most of her day around men of all shapes and sizes and none had ever made her feel flustered just thinking about the shape of a forearm. She shouldn't be thinking about anybody in that kind of way she reminded herself, she had a job to get done and then after that she had plans, big plans that didn't involve a guy with a cheeky looking belly button. Cheeky _belly button_? Tate gave herself a mental shake and listened to the question Sam was asking.

"Do you go to the university pub often?"

"I don't generally have time to go, and they always ask me for I.D so it's a hassle I can actually live without." Tate shrugged, "How about you?"

"Me?" Sam matched her shrug, "First and only time was tonight, and my brother and I we're on a road trip..."

Tate nodded, it didn't really surprise her, Sam had a just on edge quality to him that was more familiar to her than she liked. It was as subtle as a hint of cinnamon in your hot chocolate, it was warm and cosy and then your mind finally caught up to the fact that there was just a little something extra and unexpected in what you'd already taken three sips of. "I wouldn't have pegged you guys as students somehow."

Sam cleared his throat "Actually I've taken a break from Stanford Law..."

"That I can believe." Tate smiled and was rewarded with a small chuckle from Sam; she also got the distinct impression he hadn't meant to tell her that little piece of information. Sometimes that was the advantage of having an innocent face, people told you things they really shouldn't, even if you didn't want them to.

"And Dean is an English Professor..." Sam's face was poker straight as the streetlights washed over it, but the quick look at Tate told her all she needed to know

"Right. I'm guessing he specialises feminist poetry of the late 20th century" Tate said dryly, if she'd ever seen a guy who looked less likely than Dean to read feminist poetry, she didn't know where. Even unconscious he looked dangerous. And there she was, right back at dangerous. She and Sam made polite small talk about college and the subjects he'd taken as pre-law requisites.

"And that's what I mean," Sam said, " It's really important to concentrate on what a text is really saying not just what is on the surface."

"Okay, I'll remember that next time I read a law text book." More amused than anything, Tate wondered why Sam was lecturing her on getting good grades. It must be the shock of seeing his brother mown down by a bus in the middle of the street. It said nice things about him. Seeing the last turn on the way to her home Tate pointed to the left and then said, "Pull in here."

"What? Here?" Sam looked up at the large, and well lit, building they were currently parked beside. There was a big sign saying 'HOTEL'

Thinking suddenly that he should have been paying more attention to the young woman sitting beside him as he drove her home rather than concentrating on making himself just boring enough for her to forget later. He could almost hear Dean saying, 'dude she's taken you to a hotel, and hotels are only good for two things when you're with an attractive lady, sleeping and doing naughty stuff while you're not sleeping.' That would be fine if the girl who'd taken him to a hotel didn't look like he'd be put in jail if he actually touched her. Jailbait, that's what they called it. He could feel a blush start to creep up from his chest.

"Hey, uh Tate, I never thought to ask before but should we have a called your parents or something? To maybe let them know why you weren't home..." Sam faltered as Tate's cool grey gaze met his darker blue.

"It's fine, I'm a big girl Sam, look I'm still feeling pretty guilty about throwing up on your shoes, let me get you a room and..."

"No, no that's fine" Sam smiled and pointed vaguely over his shoulder, "I'm just going to get a room at a hotel closer to the hospital, I'm sure I saw one, the Tropicana or something."

"That place is a dive," Tate grimaced "I get the feeling you guys have been on the road for a while, wouldn't you like a room with a nice hot tub spa and a huge bed and room service and, did I mention all this will cost you nothing..." Tate finally looked properly at Sam as he placed a large hand on her arm, in the soft light of the hotel garden lights he looked noticeably uncomfortable and if she wasn't mistaken there was a blush across his high cheekbones and a look of panic around his eyes.

"Look Tate, you're really very pretty, beautiful in fact, but the thing is, I have... I have a thing...with someone I mean, and you're way too young to even consider using..." he waved vaguely at Tate's torso, "As a way of thanking or apologising to someone, and really vomit is _so_ not the worst thing that's ever been on these jeans..."

Tate blinked twice before she spoke, letting him get even more uncomfortable, "You know if you hadn't been incredibly sweet just then I'd be insulted," Tate said quietly, "I'm going to ignore the fact that you basically suggested that I was throwing myself at you and rephrase my offer." Luckily Tate was too tired to take offence, and it wasn't the first time someone had assumed she was much younger than she really was.

Taking a breath she waved at the classy looking hotel and explained, "My family owns this hotel, which means that I can get you a room, a nice one, that you don't have to pay for. I admit that this might be a bit of an apology for Dean getting hit by the bus when it swerved to miss me and then the whole vomiting thing, but I would have offered anyway. And I'll be insulted if you don't stay for as long as you're in town" That much was true, and she tried to tell herself that she wasn't just hoping to meet Dean when he wasn't unconscious or close to it.

"Sorry." Sam gave Tate an apologetic half smile and she smiled back.

"So you'll come in and stay?"

"Sure, I mean, yes thank you."

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"A hot tub, king sized bed, room service _and_ free cable? Dude if I wasn't in this sling I'd beat your ass for not coming to get me last night." Dean grumbled as Sam pushed him towards the hospital exit in the wheelchair Nurse Brown had insisted they use. Sam wasn't sure if it was the fact Dean was in a lot of pain or that he was just being a lazy pain in the butt, but he hadn't put up much of a fight. "So this Tate girlie, she just gave you the room?"

"Yep." Sam nodded

"You didn't have to... you know, let her touch you in special places?" Dean's snigger sounded a little forced.

"No" Dean could almost hear Sam frowning behind him, "And she's not a girlie, at least not _your _definition of one." Sam groused and gave the wheelchair a bit of a nudge, which to Dean's mind was a little uncalled for. He was only giving Sam what his little brother expected, it was one way of keeping a small semblance of normality; Sam could rely on good ol' Dean to be the lecherous bastard. He wasn't sure but Dean suspected if he quietly owned up to being sick of being the one who picked up chicks and left Sam to his own devices for an hour that Sam might go into some kind of melt down.

Two people, even brothers, could not exist in the same ten square feet of each other for months on end without a few timeouts. What Sam didn't know was that the last few long legged blondes Dean had picked up had been taken to their homes, politely said goodnight to and then Dean had spent the rest of the night curled up on the back seat trying to get some sleep. Sleep usually didn't come though and he spent the next day being grouchy, which Sam generally interpreted as a hangover.

Sometimes for a guy who was so perceptive to other people's pain, Sam sure had a blind spot when it came to Dean, and Dean liked it that way. It was the way it had to be.

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Chocolate.

Was Dean's first thought when he woke up in the middle of one of the biggest king sized beds he'd ever seen. Carefully he stretched and then scratched an itch in the middle of his chest and then lower.

Her eyelashes obscured Tate's wide grey eyes as she blinked, and then blinked again before she blushed furiously. Admittedly when Sam had let her into the brother's suite before heading back into the bathroom to finish dressing Tate had oh so casually walked toward the coffee table in the middle of the sumptuous cream and gold sitting room and just happened to look into Dean's room through the wide open doorway, she'd almost been disappointed that he'd still been asleep.

But then she took the opportunity to get another sneak peek at his awe inspiring torso, which looked even better on the deep claret red of the bed sheets, one of which was barely clinging to his hips. In the middle of staring at the middle of his chest while berating herself for perving on an unconscious guy, _again,_ Tate froze as he stretched like a cat under the sheets and then lifted a hand to scratch the exact spot her gaze had snagged on seconds earlier.

"You didn't have to get us breakfast Tate...Dean" Tate wasn't sure who was blushing more, herself or Sam when he saw what she'd just been looking at. Guiltily She put down the plate of muffins and turned towards the TV. "Dean we have company."

"And?" Dean rolled out of the bed slowly, wincing as his shoulder protested.

"A pair of pants might be in order." Sam muttered and quickly brushed past Tate to close the door to Dean's room giving Tate and apologetic smile and shrug.

"What the hell?" Dean's face appeared around Sam's shoulder as he wrenched the door back open. "Oh, hi."

"Hi, I uh...Brought muffins" Tate said feebly and Dean gave her what could almost be called a smile as he hid behind the door.

"Dean meet Tate, Tate this is my brother Dean." Sam made the introductions and hid his surprise and a knowing smile by reaching for one of the still warm muffins.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hi, I'm back! Ill health has kept me off the computer for over a month, but I'm getting better now so I have the next chapter! (Short but at least it's something :).

Cheers,

Miff

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5. Stranger Danger

Sam watched covertly as his older brother assimilated all the obvious facts about Tate. He saw the fact that this was a stranger register first which fell into Dean's 'Bad' category, then the fact the she was female and the realisation that she was a very attractive female and carrying food swiftly changed the balance to 'good/flirt', at least... it _should_ have. Taking another look at Dean just to make sure he was interpreting his brother's almost imperceptible reactions correctly Sam was surprised to find that Dean hadn't shifted out of 'Stranger Danger' mode. There was a guarded look in his eye that concerned Sam.

"Um...Hey Tate thanks for these I was just about to go out and rustle up some breakfast," Not a complete lie Sam reasoned to himself, he was going to go out and find out as much as he could about Tate and her family, and there was a high possibility that on his way to the library he would have stopped for food.

He hadn't asked Tate about her similarity to the ghost on the bus yet, but he preferred to have a little research under his belt first, who knew what kind of skeletons she had in her closet? And there was always the possibility that she knew nothing about any skeletons anyway. Ghosts were dead people and death was generally not a good thing for the rest of the family involved. Plus the fact that the ghost had been seen off and on for the past 24 years meant that Tate probably hadn't even been around back then. So - first things first; Sam would research her family tree. He didn't have a surname but owning a hotel left records, and records were his forte.

Dean brushed past him to get a muffin and straightened up with a smile, "Yeah thanks Tate, these are gud" the last word was muffled by the muffin as Dean consumed it in one bite.

"It was no problem, I was making them for class this morning anyway." Sam noted that as she answered Tate was looking everywhere but at Dean. Dean on the other hand was staring at Tate, and to Sam's mounting concern it wasn't the sort of stare that fell into an admiring category. "So I'll see you later, maybe, I mean we'll be in the same building at least some of the time and chaos theory would suggest that at some point our paths could cross...or not, I'll be going..." The look on Tate's face suggested that that was possibly the most cringe worthy thing she'd ever said in her life so far. Sam gave her a small smile and nudged Dean until he did the same. Tate turned on the spot and hurried through the doorway, pulling the door almost closed before it got stuck on her scarf, which she then jerked free, she jerked free.

"Bye." Sam turned to Dean as soon as Tate had left.

"Dude what as that?" he asked, waving vaguely at the door.

"What?" Crumbs fell out of his mouth as Dean shrugged and then winced and grabbed his shoulder.

"Why were you looking at her like that? And don't say 'like what'"

"It's nothing Sammy, don't you have research to do or something?" Dean was sounding grumpy, and Sam knew his brother well enough to know that he only got grumpy when he was hurt or was having trouble identifying exactly what was threatening himself or Sam.

"Look, Dean, if I need to be worried about Tate for some reason that you know and I don't then spit it out" Sam frowned at his older brother and got a niggled frown in response, "Or do you think the FBI have started using techniques based on Hollywood, and Tate's like some undercover police woman who gets in under our guard to bring us down by seeming to be all young and sweet?"

"No, although that _21 Jump Street_ was great" Dean smiled then visibly brought himself back to the conversation, "Anyway it's nothing, go hang out in your natural geek habitat." Dean waved Sam toward the door as he carefully sank into a lounge chair in front of the television. "And hey when have I ever been taken in by young, sweet and... What?" Dean looked up at Sam who seemed to be attempting shorthand sign language.

"Young, sweet and late for school?" Dean's head whipped around to look at Tate who had come back into the room. "I knocked, but you guys were talking and the door was actually still open so I just thought I'd pick this up, I dropped it when my scarf, you know." Tate brandished a small cell phone and then put it in the pocket of her jacket. She gave them a small wave and left, this time carefully closing the door behind her.

Dean and Sam looked at each other for a moment before Dean asked; "How long was she there, and how much did she overhear? And how fast can the police get here if she's calling them right now?"

"I'll just go... do something" Sam grabbed his jacket from the back of another chair and ran out the door.


End file.
